


Long Tailed Winter Bird

by 777LLL



Series: Going Nowhere [2]
Category: Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: A Winter’s Story, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light Angst, M/M, Smut, This Ain't the Healthiest Relationship but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:22:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28739451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/777LLL/pseuds/777LLL
Summary: “We’re not in a rush,” Alex raises his chin up and takes a sip of his own drink. He searches for Miles’ eyes, and that’s the last delay of the game Miles can take. He grunts, fingers burying in Alex’s locks and pulling roughly, knees falling onto the floor. He ravishes Alex's lips madly from this difficult angle. The tip of Alex’s nose pokes at his chin. Alex lets out a mutter of discontent, struggling out of his grip, and immediately rolls over for another kiss. He opens his mouth to let Miles in. Alex tastes salty from the olives he just ate, spicy from that sip of whiskey, and bitter because Miles is bitterly longing for him.He wonders how he could survive another night like this.
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner
Series: Going Nowhere [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119998
Kudos: 12





	Long Tailed Winter Bird

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not real, it's just that everyone needs to be pampered in winter

Long Tailed Winter Bird

The engine goes dead when they are about to hit the town. Luckily, there’s a rest stop just off the road. Miles lets his arm unlock from around Alex’s waist and then jumps off the motorbike. He wants to help wheel the heavy vehicle, but Alex insists that it’s a one-man’s job. A snowflake falls down right onto the bridge of his nose as Alex speaks, which Miles brushes away with his knuckle. It has made Alex smile.

They head off to the service area in a hurry. Around the last bent of the road, Miles put his elbows on both sides of the saddle, steering the motorbike to the left. Alex turns around with a little frown. “I almost slipped,” Hands around handlebars, he complains, but is at the same time clearly encouraging Miles’ vices. “I won’t call that helping, Miles.”

“Well, you wanted to go for a ride.” Miles snorts, “Nobody can help us now.”

“I did recall you agreeing with my suggestion.”

“Consider it your birthday present.”

Alex’s lips curl up at that. He is wearing a black jacket with a tight neckline. Snow has piled up on his shoulder, forming a fluffy collar. Some white flakes are also caught in his hair, making him look like a cartoon character in some Christmas themed picture book. Miles counts the crystals with his eyes one by one, until Alex notices, and shakes his head clean like a shaggy puppy.

They reach the parking lot. “I’ll go ask if they have a shed in the back.” Alex says, abandoning his motorbike outside the canteen. “Guess we have to call a cab.”

Miles follows him inside. Warm air hits them; the heat makes Miles’ skin prickle. Alex breathes out in content as they walk in. HE struggles out of his suede gloves, which are apparently helpless against the freezing wind, leaving his hands blue with cold. Miles stares, brows knitted at the sight.

“Hot drinks?” He points at the café.

“Yeah. Just get me the same thing you want.” Alex nods, heading to the back to look for a staff. It takes a while for Alex to come back. In the meantime, Miles orders them two cups of hot chocolate, and then calls an uber. He waits by the glass door, sipping mindlessly at the beverage, thirst for a smoke. The howling wind eventually stops him. Miles settles on watching the snow decorate Alex’s motorbike. He finds himself distracted by his own reflection – he has grown a cream beard. It goes well with the Christmas deco that’s still on the door.

“What’re you laughing about?” Alex’s voice rings behind him. Taking his drink from Miles’ hand, Alex immediately gets himself the same beard. Miles lifts his eyebrows and Alex gets it right away, wiping off the smudge of cream with the back of his hand. He tells Miles that they don’t have a shed, but the guy on duty kindly offers to keep Alex’s bike in the storage room for tonight.

“Is the guy just very kind or is he a fan?” Miles teases.

He finds it unfairly adorable, that after all these years Alex still gets flustered each time someone recognizes him. “Both, okay?” Alex nudges him as his quiet grin turns into full on laughter. Miles dodges cleverly and attacks back, tickling the back of his neck. If not for the drinks they are both holding, they’d probably be roaming across the lobby right now. Alex can’t hold back his smile while thanking the staff for his help, and he is still laughing out loud as they get into the uber.

The radio is on. A high-pitched voice was just talking about tonight's unexpected snow, and now the topic changes to the fireworks and street shows of yesterday. The loudspeaker offers them privacy. Alex leans in and presses his lips to Miles’ ear, whispering, “Where’re we going, your place or mine?”

“Yours.” Miles suppresses back a shudder.

“Emm…I still have some olives and fried bacon in the fridge, I think.” Alex hums, breath defreezing his skin. Miles feels a tingle in his earlobe with each syllable. He has a vague hunch that tonight is gonna end in a certain way - There’s a mocking expectation churning in his stomach, hard to tell if that’s the good or bad type.

“Good, you better got the right brand of whiskey as well ’cause I’m frigging freezing.”

Alex shakes his head. “You always have something to say about the food I serve, don’t you, Miles?”

“I make breakfast tomorrow and you’ll know it’s well justified.”

“You always say that but sleep in -”

“Not this time, Al.” Miles promises. Then the car takes a sudden turn and throws Alex on top of him. The driver keeps apologizing for this small incident. Alex has to repeatedly tell him to calm down. What the driver doesn't know is that Miles would even thank him for his terrible driving skill, just because Alex doesn’t move from his new spot, pressing tightly into the side of Miles’ body for the rest of the ride.

They get off two blocks away from Alex’s flat – Miles is careful to locate the destination at somewhere nearby, but not precisely on spot. The snow has stopped at some point, but the piled white on windshields of street cars is more than enough for Miles to make a soft ball. He glances up at Alex and finds Alex looking right back. His eyes appear to be a darker shade of brown under the streetlight, entrancing and irresistible and Miles is riveted by the slight movement or his eyelids.

His mouth twitches, and gradually his face splits into a provoking smirk. Miles receives the invitation. Without a second of hesitation, he throws the snowball at Alex.

“Hell, no. I haven’t said ‘start’ yet!”

“Start!” Miles yells, grabbing another handful. Alex turns back, heels slipping dangerously on small pieces of ice as he runs to hide. Miles is taken by surprise and eats a mouthful of snow around the corner. Alex bursts out laughing behind the bushes, but Miles knocks off his smugness with another snowball right on target.

They scream and shout and fight all the way down the street. Snow sneaks inside Miles’ leather coat, making his teeth chattering, and Alex is finally beaten by the slippery pavement, falling onto his knees before he could hit Miles with his final blow. Throwing away his weapon, Alex stretches out both arms and pulls on Miles’ pockets, dragging him close. Miles loses his balance as well. Alex falls on top of him as he sinks into a blanket of snow in the little garden off the road.

“Damn it, Alex. That’s cheating!”

“You cheated first!”

Miles circles his arms around Alex’s shoulder and throws him off, flipping them around. Alex spreads out on the grass, guffawing. “Right, can’t ruin that pretty coat of yours.”

“What? You weren’t getting soft on me,” shrieks Miles. He begins to tickle where he knows Alex is weak – right below his ribcage, two inches to the left. “I win! Admit it!”

“Okay, okay! You win!” Alex shrinks into himself, arching off the ground. Eventually he accepts his defeat and begs for mercy. Alex pats his arm. “Get off me, Miles! Let’s go upstairs.”

Miles looks down at him. It’s close to midnight. Outside, the only source of light comes from a window on the second floor. Miles can barely make out Alex’s face in the dark. He naturally remembers last time they wrestled on a snowy day like this, that was in Boston. Then the time before was also in London, just like today, at the exact same place. On that day Alex just turned 21. They had sneaked out from his birthday party, both too drunk to walk straight. Miles couldn’t make his lighter work, so Alex held up his blue scarf to block the wind. He decided to kiss Miles behind the makeshift windshield - The kiss was impulsive and sloppy and so frighteningly good. Miles accidentally burned a hole on that piece of wool, for his hands were shaking like crazy when they parted.

He hasn’t seen Alex wearing that scarf again ever since.

“Miles?” Alex’s voice tightens, smile replaced by worry. He props up himself on the elbows, awkwardly sitting up, cupping Miles’ face in his palms. “Hey, what’s wrong? Miles, no, no, don’t - please don’t cry…”

He sounds concerned and slightly confused. If not for the gentle movement of Alex’s fingertips, Miles wouldn’t even know he’s teared up. He feels embarrassed and somewhat ashamed when Alex makes another cooing sound. “The wind,” he sniffs, blaming the innocent winter. “It’s too cold.”

Alex must know he’s lying, but he doesn’t say a word, only pushing Miles lightly on the shoulder, urging him to stand up. He has an arm around Miles’ neck while reaching for his keys and he keeps a hand on him as they climb the stairs.

Miles trips on the doormat. At the same time, Alex switches on the light.

They stare straight into each other’s eyes. It takes a while to adjust to the sudden brightness. When he does, Miles notices there’s dry grass and snow everywhere on Alex, as though he had spent the whole day working in a farm. Miles bets he looks just as beaten up. It all starts to feel out of place and ridiculous. A huff of laugh breaks the silence. “I can really use a shower.”

“There’s towel and clothes in the wardrobe.” Alex gestures at the guest room, still stressed with worry. He adds hesitantly, “Miles, about what just-”

“Cheers,” Miles rudely interrupts him. “See you in a bit, Al.”

Hot shower feels more like a type of torture in the first. Miles wastes no time to clean himself and slips into the sleepwear Alex prepares for him - Alex has had this Velvet Underground T-shirt for more than a decade, so the material gets extremely soft. Miles knows this piece of clothes very well. It’s familiar and comforting to him, just as many other things about Alex – the little frown of his when he writes, the way his eyes widen when he drifts deep inside his own head, his unsettling fingers whenever they hug… Then there are certain things Alex always does, things that Miles ain’t supposed to know. They’re also just like this T-shirt he’s now wearing - unbelievably good, yet borrowed. He can only have them for a little while.

When Miles returns to the living room, Alex is sitting on the sofa, lost in thought. His hair is tangled and weighed down, still dripping. Miles brushes his fingers over Alex’s collar and finds the clothes soaked.

“You better get another change.”

“In a minute.” Alex breaks out of the daze and passes him a shot glass. Miles swallows the liquid in one go, feeling the alcohol burn from the tip of his tongue all the way down to the bottom of his heart. He prefers to have a refill of tolerance for pain, but a shot of whiskey is better than nothing.

“We’re not in a rush,” Alex raises his chin up and takes a sip of his own drink. He searches for Miles’ eyes, and that’s the last delay of the game Miles can take. He grunts, fingers burying in Alex’s locks and pulling roughly, knees falling onto the floor. He ravishes Alex's lips madly from this difficult angle. The tip of Alex’s nose pokes at his chin. Alex lets out a mutter of discontent, struggling out of his grip, and immediately rolls over for another kiss. He opens his mouth to let Miles in. Alex tastes salty from the olives he just ate, spicy from that sip of whiskey, and bitter because Miles is bitterly longing for him. He wonders how he could survive another night like this.

“Al, Alex,” he sighs. Miles wants to know if Alex suffers from the alternating visits of wishful thinking and disappointment as well. He hopes so.

“I was supposed to check the fuel tank this afternoon, but you said you’d come so I forgot.” Alex admits, proving him right. “I had a to-do list, Miles, but I thought about you and I kept forgetting-”

“Fuck the oil tank, Jesus. Find a better excuse to call me next time, will you.” Miles kisses him again. At some point Alex drops his glass and Miles has long lost his own. He retreats, taking a few steps back just so that Alex will have to follow - _Sometimes he really needs Alex to go towards him rather than the other way around._

And Alex does exactly what he wishes for. His hands find Miles’ hips, keeping him close, owning him without a price to pay. For a moment Miles feels almost dizzy, his relief so palpable that it chokes him.

“Miles,” Alex reads what hasn’t been said. “You want-”

He nods frantically. “Yes, right now...I’m sure, of course I’m sure... Fuck, Alex, stop asking me.”

But Alex asks them anyway, as though it’s not obvious enough to him that where he’s wanted, when Miles has spread out on bed for him like a roll of unfolded parchment. “Miles,” Alex touches his kneecap, in a low voice he once again seek for an answer, “…you okay?”

Miles almost lets the sarcastic sneer escape. _What do you think?_ He thought to himself. Alex is now pushing a finger inside him, and Miles wiggles to welcome the intrusion. It feels so good that he can’t even uncurl his toes. _Of course he’s okay, dammit. Fuck Alex and his stupid questions. He’s never been better._

“I want you,” Miles bubbles out before Alex even squeezes in the second knuckle of his index finger. He is not ashamed to be more specific, “…want your cock.”

“Miles,” Alex frowns, but his face becomes all red, his breath short and rapid. “I won’t-I don’t want to hurt you. Not…not like this.”

“Oh please, of course you do!” Miles pulls at his shaky elbow with frustration, “I want you to. Come on, Al... please do.”

Alex falls silent. He carefully retreats his fingers, and fumbles clumsily for condom. The box is half empty, but Miles would rather pretend neither of them noticed that. His hand returns and trembles along the lines of muscles on Miles’ thigh. “I thought you wouldn’t come over. I wanted to see you so badly. Then I knew you were to be here, but still I got caught into the fear that…” Alex’s throat closes up and opens, voice cracking slightly. He holds the eye contact, making sure that Miles is there. “I want you. God, you have no idea how much I do.”

That’s how Alex tames him, not with his bottomless patience and loving kisses and the quiet noises he makes when he penetrates Miles, but with _words_. He has said what Miles was desperately waiting to hear. If he’s not so busy kissing Miles’ shoulder, Alex would see Miles’ cock twitch and jerk, glistening with precum, despite the discomfort after a hasty preparation. “Al,” Miles grumbles as Alex folds him in half. His body is flexible and willing enough to be manipulated as Alex pleases. “Alex, move your ass. If you have to bend me like this, I won’t be able to help you.”

Alex cracks, lips travelling to his jaw. “Wanker,” he says, pinning Miles down with his body, and drives deeply into him. In this position the only parts Miles can move freely are his fingers, so he has them hidden in Alex’s curly hair, feeling like Alex has more or less deliberately got him stuck at a corner.

“Please,” he groans, “Please Alex, fucking give it to me -”

Alex suddenly sets him free. Miles’ legs fall open, and he immediately finds a way to push back, greedily meeting Alex’s each movement. He can always give a bit more, and Miles wants it that way. He moans loudly, shouting himself hoarse as Alex repeatedly works him open. Alex gazes downwards misty-eyed, forehead tinted with sweat. Miles arches up to lick at his wet lashes, and Alex closes his eyes.

“Miles, Miles,” Alex chants a prayer of his name, demanding another kiss. Miles can tell that he’s close because Alex’s hips are losing the rhythm and he always fucks harder before climax hits. _Although it’s not something he’s supposed to know._

Miles trembles as a moan escapes Alex and he jerks forward one last time. A minute later, only when the wave of pleasure sinks down does Miles realize that he’s still hard. “Oh,” Alex is slightly surprised as well, but he pays Miles a faint smile, sliding down to lick and suck until Miles softens in his mouth.

The kisses afterwards taste disturbing. Miles thinks. He is floating in the clouds long afterwards. Alex tried to move them over to the dry side of the bed, but only ends up blanketing Miles himself. In the end Miles has to tug him in, rolling them both under a real blanket. Alex cuddles up to him and then lays Miles’ arm over his stomach.

“So you really didn’t know?” Alex asks him in a strained, tiny voice. The question seems senseless and he sounds almost apologetic.

Miles can barely open his eyes. He would have made a snide remark to make Alex feel at least slightly guilty, but he’s too sleepy to lie. “Of course I know,” he kisses the back of Alex’s neck, tightening the embrace. Deep down he’d always understand that Alex wants him, that Alex has wanted this probably just as bad. “I just wanna hear you say it.”


End file.
